


Big

by Emelye



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emelye/pseuds/Emelye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big

_“He’s too small to sit a pony properly.”_

_“What good is a hobbit in battle? Soft, and small and weak as you are?”_

_“If you can’t carry your pack, don’t expect others will take up your slack.”_

_“Good-for-nothing hobbit!”_

It had been months of this. Bilbo couldn’t possibly hope to explain Thorin’s preoccupation with his size. Every cutting remark hurt and confused him in equal measure. Of _course_ he was small, he was a hobbit. That was the size they came in, why should he have been bothered by that of all things? Certainly, hobbits could claim neither the longevity of the elves, the stature of the men nor the strength of the dwarves. They weren’t skilled in warcraft, though they’d successfully defended their homes in times past. But why should that bother him? He was a hobbit. He had an excellent garden, a cunning home, threw magnificent parties and like most of his kind, could pass silently and unobserved around or beneath any trouble that should happen upon him in the form of bigger folk. 

And Bilbo was particularly silent and unobtrusive—a point of pride for him, even before he found his ring. 

His feet were sturdy and the hair upon them well groomed. He suffered no ill health or infirmity and he fancied himself to be not entirely unattractive. As far as hobbits went, Bilbo had always thought he cut a pretty impressive figure. Not that he would have been crass enough to admit as much out loud, but nevertheless, he had never suffered from a low opinion of himself. 

But to compare him to dwarves or men? It was as ludicrous as comparing apples to oranges. So why was Thorin so disparaging of Bilbo when the only failing he managed to find in him, as far as he could tell, was in his not being a dwarf? 

Bilbo brushed it off as the grousing of one so accustomed to complaint he felt obliged to find fault where none existed. He ignored it as best he was able, trusted Gandalf knew what he was about in bringing him on this ridiculous adventure and trusted in the company to restore his good spirits with their kind and jocular natures. 

And so it went, for many months until they were upon the end of their journey. 

Lake-town was a town of big folk, and while Bilbo had spent time among them in Bree, Hobbits were rather more common there, and far less worthy of remark, apparently. 

“Cor, look at that little fellow! C’mere little one!” 

“Like a doll, he is! Wonder if I could find one to take home to me girls?” 

The first few ignorant comments were easy enough to ignore, but by the third or fourth time someone attempted to pinch his cheek, Bilbo was growing irritated. 

They had drifted ashore near a pub and were being stood a round in celebration of their heroic quest to retake the mountain. Most of the dwarves were quite chuffed at the prospect and appreciative of the flattery. They began spinning their tales for the men and Bilbo was more than happy to fade into the background as they drank and restored the good spirits that had been so thoroughly doused in the river. 

“Here, look at this!” 

Bilbo groaned as his arm was rudely grabbed and he was thrust into a circle of men well in their cups. Laughter rose up around him as they took in his appearance and demeanor. 

“Dance for us then, halfling!” 

Bilbo rolled his eyes and was about to tell the lot of them off when a roar sounded from behind the men and Thorin came charging through the line, knocking several of them flat with the back of his hand. 

When all eyes turned to him, Bilbo shrank back as Thorin rounded on the others. “What right have you to interfere with Master Baggins?” 

“We were just having a little fun with the little fellow, no harm done,” one of the more sober men replied, in a placating manner. 

“You would humiliate him? Demand he perform for you as though he were a trained monkey? How _dare _you?”__

“Thorin,” Bilbo began quietly, trying to calm the enraged king. “It’s all right.” 

Thorin rounded on Bilbo. For a moment something agonized passed across his visage before he growled and took himself off in a hurry. Bilbo was left standing in the midst of the silent pub, surrounded by the wary glances of the other men and dwarves. 

“I’ll just…” he began then hurried off after Thorin, catching up with him on the edge of the main street as he stalked off toward the river. “Thorin, _Thorin _!” he shouted.__

The King rounded on him. “I cannot abide this town. Tell the others to prepare what supplies they need and we’ll be off before nightfall.” 

Bilbo stared at the king in shock. “We’ve only just arrived! The company is tired and in need of rest.” 

“We’ll camp closer to the mountain.” 

“I rather think a night in actual beds would serve us well before we face what is to come.” 

Thorin sneered at him. “Of _course_ you _would_ say that. The soft hobbit likes his comforts—” 

“A little less of the soft remarks, if you please. I’ll bear that sort of talk from the ignorant, but I’ll not suffer it from you who just laid four men flat for less! And while we’re on the subject, what in _blazes_ was that about?” 

Thorin deflated entirely. “How do you _stand_ it?” 

“Stand what?” 

“Being _small_.” 

Bilbo thought that was a rather odd question coming from a dwarf. “You don’t like big folk?” 

Thorin snorted. “ _Big folk_. No, I’m not fond of _big folk_.” 

Bilbo patted his pockets and found his pipe. “Do you have any pipeweed?” 

Thorin, if he was thrown by this non sequitur, made no sign. “I do.” 

There was an obligingly felled tree near the water’s edge. Bilbo made for it and sat himself down, waiting until Thorin had joined him before removing his pipe and taking the proffered leaf to tamp and alight. He took a long draw before he attempted to speak again. 

“Thorin, how old were you when you first encountered big folk?” 

Thorin held his own pipe in his hands. “My father had dealings with the men of Dale and elves.” 

“But did you speak to them? Dine with them? Trade with them?” 

Thorin looked at him with a wry smile. “Not until the mountain was lost, no.” 

Bilbo thought he was beginning to see the shape of things. “When I was a fauntling, my father took me on a walking trip to Bree-land. My father, you understand, was quite tall for a hobbit. Back then, I barely reached his waistcoat. So when we arrived at the inn and I saw men twice his size, well, it was quite the eye-opener, as you can imagine.” 

Thorin hummed around his pipe and Bilbo smiled, recalling that first outing. “That evening some men came up to us and began to bother my father. Pinching his cheeks and treating him as a child. My father paid them little mind, and sent them on their way with a sharp word but I was rather affected by seeing the way those men treated him, one of the most respected hobbits in Hobbiton. It disturbed me, much as it disturbed you. But that evening he told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said, “The world is a big place, and we are little folk, but no one can take your dignity without your permission.” 

They smoked in silence for a long while before Thorin spoke. 

“I met my first man near here. We stumbled into Lake-town, injured, hungry, and broken after the fall of Erabor. I had been a prince, and here I was treated like a grifter. We had very little of value to trade and the children were hungry. I watched as my sister was humiliated before her sons, men who found her dwarven beauty a grotesque novelty offered me coin to bed her. I refused, horrified, but they were many and I learned in that moment exactly how small a dwarf was to fifteen men. I was held down and forced to watch as my beloved sister, the _princess_ of my people, was violated over and over again until Dwalin and Balin found us. She bled for days, but it was she who comforted me. _She_ , who’d been so brutalized, reminded me she was a dwarf, proud and strong, and could not be so easily broken. But _I_ was broken. And I cannot so easily forget how it felt to be made so powerless.” 

Bilbo was lost for words. “Oh, my King,” he said. Thorin’s eyes snapped to his face. Bilbo took his hand in his, willing him to hear the sincerity of his words. 

The voices of the company drifted down to them from the pub as they cheered and rose in song. “I have never met another more powerful than you are. What those men did to you—” 

Thorin flinched and made to pull away. “Not to me—” 

Bilbo relaxed his grip and Thorin’s hand remained. “ _What they did to you_ was every bit a violation, and my heart breaks to think of it, but Thorin, your sister was right. Your power doesn’t lay in your strength. It’s back in that pub. It’s right here with us. You’re on a quest to retake a mountain from a _dragon_ with a company of miners, toymakers and a _hobbit_ , and not a single one of them doubt you will succeed. Because you are _Thorin Oakenshield_ , and Thorin Oakenshield _does not bow to defeat_.” 

For the second time in their journey, Bilbo found himself in Thorin’s embrace. This time, before Bilbo could pull back, Thorin’s hand cupped his cheek and softly kissed his mouth. 

“Thank you, Mister Baggins,” he said, pressing his forehead to the hobbit’s own. 

Bilbo smiled and chanced placing his own hand on Thorin’s face. “Thank _you_ , your Majesty.” 

Thorin released him and tucked a strand of hair behind Bilbo’s ear. “I believe a braid here would look quite handsome.” 

Bilbo chuckled softly. “Would you like to plait one for me?” 

Thorin gave him a rather intense look. “Yes, I would. When the mountain is once again ours.” 

That seemed like a rather stringent requirement for a simple braid. “As you like,” he replied, easily. “Shall we rejoin the company?” 

Thorin looked down. “You’ve given me much to consider. Go on and rejoin the company and I shall find you later.” 

Bilbo put a gentle hand on the King’s shoulder. “If you’re sure.” 

Thorin’s hand rose to cover his and his smile was lighter, if not completely unburdened. “Go on.” 

Feeling emboldened, Bilbo hastily pressed a kiss to the king’s cheek before dashing off. Not daring to look back, he grinned to himself as he ran for the pub. It had been many years since Bilbo had felt the first flush of romance so keenly, but he was content to let it keep. There would be time enough to pay court to Thorin when the dragon was defeated. 

And there, once again in the company of dwarves, filled with the confidence of drink, the warmth of their friendship, and the unshakable belief in their King, Bilbo was certain they would.


End file.
